


The Ghost of Hope's Peak

by Jimcloud



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Fluff, Nonbinary Kamukura Izuru, Other, The angst will come if I ever continue this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimcloud/pseuds/Jimcloud
Summary: Saihara Shuichi investigates a ghost.He gets a lot more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47
Collections: August 2020 Server Gift Exchange





	The Ghost of Hope's Peak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caesium0810](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caesium0810/gifts).



> So just to go over it a little bit: this is a non-despair universe, the kamukura project still happened (though I messed with the details a lot), the V3 cast attends Hope's Peak with the casts of the other games.
> 
> This is very loosely based on a roleplay I did with AO3 user spacejames, with one line in particular cribbed from it, but that aside I just sort of went and did my own thing. Hope you enjoy, Kiri! And anyone else who enjoys content of these two. I know you're out there.

This was a bad idea.

I go over the reasons in my head why I'm out here, in the courtyard in the middle of the night, trying to keep myself hidden in a place that lets me keep watch over everything. A little bit cold, a little bit miserable, and a little bit-

Well, no. I'm not afraid. There's not even a  _ reason _ to be afraid. The academy grounds are safe.

And no matter what  _ anyone _ says, there is  _ not _ a ghost out here.

Let's see… it started probably last week? Ouma went for one of his midnight snack runs in the kitchens… probably because he isn't so fond of the crowds, if I had to guess. The next day, he wouldn't stop talking about the ghost he met while he was making his peanut butter banana and whipped cream sandwich (side note: why) that demanded a bite. The story got bigger and worse as the week went on, thanks to the fact that Momota got jumpy every time Ouma told it, loudly denying the possibility of ghosts being real. By today, Momota looked about ready to pass out when he came into class. Feels sort of like he's been even more sensitive to it lately than usual. I wonder if there might possibly be a reas-

Wait, I got lost in thought again, I'm supposed to be on ghostwatch. Pay attention, Saihara.

Hmm… yeah, nothing.

In any case… that's when I volunteered to investigate it and prove there isn't any "ghost" haunting the school. Ouma said he first saw it here in the courtyard, so this is the obvious place to start. It's the same day of the week, too, so it should be routine if whatever happened  _ was _ routine.

Not that anything's going to happen. More likely than not, this is just another one of Ouma's baseless lie-

Uh?

…There's someone here. The fine details of their features are obscured in the evening haze, but their long hair stands out, along with-

Ah-

their striking,  _ bright _ red eyes, which are… staring right at me. I let out a little noise which I regret immediately, because  _ wow, _ Saihara, you're  _ supposed _ to be a detective, not a mouse, but you sure sound more like the second one right about now. My own gaze turns to the floor.

...Wasn't Ouma's ghost supposed to have bright red eyes?

"You are Saihara Shuichi," they say, in a voice that's deep, but not as deep as I'd been expecting, and so,  _ so _ devoid of tone it makes me a little bit nervous, "first year, Ultimate Detective." There's a second's pause before they add, "you are looking for me."

My eyes keep flitting up to theirs, but not quite making it to them. They're closer, now, almost right in front of me but not quite, keeping some distance (which I appreciate). Their gaze is so intense, I feel like I'm melting under it. It's… not quite so unpleasant as that makes it sound like, actually.

"Y-y-y," why won't my voice just  _ work, _ "ah," I clear my throat, take a second to breathe, "yes, yes. Yes."

That's… all true, I think. God, I need space.  _ Air. _ My heart won't stop  _ pounding. _ Who  _ is _ this? Why are they  _ here, _ at the school? What's going  _ on, _ with them? And with me?

They blink, staring at me. They cross their arms. They're wearing some kind of suit. "Are you ill, or panicked?"   
  
That obvious, huh.

I swallow. "Second one. Uh, sorry, give me a second, maybe?" I laugh nervously. Oh, god. I'm a mess. This was  _ not _ how this was supposed to happen, at all.

They don't respond, just stand there silently. They don't even give any indication they heard what I said, they just keep staring at me.

…Or  _ is _ it even at me? It seems sort of like they're staring  _ through _ me, honestly, like they don't even  _ see _ me right now. In a way, that's sort of a relief. But in a way, it's also more stressful. Why are they just… standing here, waiting for me? Courtesy? Why do they  _ know _ I'm looking for them? I just…

I don't understand.

It takes me an awkwardly long amount of time to catch my breath, and I only just barely manage to before this stranger speaks again. "I take it this has something to do with your classmate, Ouma Kokichi, the Ultimate Supreme Leader."

...Yeah, okay, this is  _ definitely _ the same guy.

"Ah, yes," I start to say, "actually, yes," oh  _ god _ why am I like this, "he mentioned he had met with a... ghost?"

"Ah," the other person says, with recognition, and if there was any doubt it's gone now, "that would be me, yes."

I blink. Their tone is so  _ dry. _ I can't tell if they're joking about calling themselves a ghost, if they just assume Ouma's referring to them, or if they're insinuating they  _ actually are _ a ghost.

"And you are...?" I ask, managing to get a bit of assertiveness into my voice. Which, thank god, I was going to  _ die _ if I kept stammering through this conversation the  _ entire _ time.

The smallest of smiles appears on their face. Their face is... close enough I can see it normally, now, I realize. "A ghost," they reply, and their voice doesn't waver, "didn't you listen to your classmate?"

...

Well.

"You're, not a ghost," I say, though my voice falters more than I'd like, sounds more unsure than I want to.

"Heh," is their response, and I feel my cheeks warming in the dark. Are they  _ enjoying _ this?

I try to make some sort of response, get some kind of protestation out of my mouth, but they manage to speak first. "You do that quite often, you realize, yes?"

...Uh-oh.

I feel dread creeping down my spine, and I can hear it in my tone when I say, "do what?"

What on  _ earth _ are they talking about? What do they  _ know? _ Hello??

They point a finger into the air, and it takes me a second to realize they're pointing towards my cheeks. What they say helps, since what they say is "blush."

You know. That does narrow it down somewhat.

If my cheeks weren't red before... they're on  _ fire _ now, I'm sure. No doubt about that. I clear my throat. God! Of all the things,  _ all _ the things they could have said, I  _ really _ wasn't expecting that one! In retrospect, okay, sure, alright, fine, but...  _ why _ would you say that to someone you just met? They  _ know _ how that comes off, right?

...Right?

Like. _Listen!_ It is not _every_ day that an attractive, androgynous long-haired red-eyed _cryptid_ slinks out from _who_ _knows where_ and then comments on you _blushing!!_ That's-

Okay, it's not  _ romantic, _ exactly, even if that's where my brain  _ insists _ on going, for some reason. Bi disaster brain on the loose once again, apparently.

It takes me too long to recover, and they're speaking again. "Most typically, caused by embarrassment, exertion, or attraction. I wonder which of these is the case here?"

...

Well, it's  _ definitely _ not exertion.

"Well, I flush rather easily when embarrassed," I make myself say, as an answer, because I  _ cannot _ let this cryptid entity continue speaking unprompted. Results have been devastating.

"I see." they respond, and they smile ever the slightest bit. The gay part of my brain starts firing on all cylinders, which I do  _ not _ appreciate, but the rational part of my brain  _ also _ kicks in, thankfully, to remind me I don't even have this person's  _ name. _

I clear my throat. "So who are you, really?" I ask. This conversation will go much better if I'm leading it, I'm pretty sure, because I'm  _ here _ for a  _ reason, _ actually.

"No one of importance," is their response, and, uh, hm.

That's the biggest lie I've heard all day, actually, and lest we forget, I share a class with Ouma.

Well, there's no point in confronting that head-on. Let's try something else. "Are you a student here?"

"After a fashion," they reply, monotone as ever.

...

Really, though,  _ would  _ it kill them to reply to a question like a normal human being? I started this night looking for a raccoon or something, and now I'm assessing the school threat level of someone I'm  _ very _ unfortunately attracted to.

"What's your title, then?" I ask. Not really one they can wriggle out of, assuming they bother to answer it at all. Hope springs eternal, I suppose.

They cross their arms. "I am referred to as the Ultimate Hope, though I consider that a bit presumptuous."

...

Seriously?

"I'm pretty sure I don't know an upperclassman who goes by that title," I say. I don't have  _ quite _ an encyclopedic knowledge of the talents of current students, obviously, but... I know enough to know that that's not one of them. If it was, I would have remembered it, because it sounds  _ completely _ fake.

"I am not officially listed," they explain, and, again, I'm forced to question how they expect me to believe any of this. Like... are they some kind of chuuni? The talent, the look, the demeanor, the way they speak, all of it, it all seems so... implausible. Unreal, almost. I can't help but doubt it all.

And yet. Under that, there's a part of me that can't help but take it as real. A part of me that swallows when they speak, waiting to hear what they say next. Maybe a part of me that wants to believe this is real, a part of me that wants the mystery.

Or maybe it's just the part of me that's just... awestruck by them, just a little bit. There's something about them, I couldn't say what, but it's...

"What does the Ultimate Hope entail?" I ask.

They just look at me for a moment. "Every talent, by design."   


_ Seriously????? _

Before I can say a word, they add, "you doubt me. I do not care to dispute it. Proving it would be... rather boring. I am far more interested in other things."

Excuse me? "What?" I say, before I can stop myself.

"Would you be opposed to an attempt to replicate conditions?" They ask.

...Huh?? "What conditions?"

"Your blushing."

...Ah.

I see.

I open my mouth to say no, but the thing is, I get this feeling like if I refuse them, this conversation is going to be over, and I have no idea how or when, if ever, I'm going to see this person again, and all of the mystery surrounding them is just going to be left in the air.

So what ends up coming out of my mouth is, actually, "ah, sure, okay."

I regret this immediately.

They step closer, and before I know it they're right next to me, their head lowered slightly to be almost eye level with my face. They are,

very, close, actually, to my face, this is a lot, actually,

"Hmm," they say, as I feel my cheeks heating up immediately, "that was fast."

"Well, you are, rather, close..." I stammer. This is a lot. This is a lot! This is just  _ so _ much.

"I wonder how intense it gets," they remark, like it's  _ nothing, _ while I feel my tiny heart about ready to absolutely  _ beat _ out of my chest. My eyes can't fix on anything right now, they're so close, and in the dark, my eyes keep flicking between their hair, their jaw, their lips ( _ god _ ), and those eyes, those bright red eyes. They're so bright, so strong, so fixated, even if they never meet mine. I feel like they're about to burn a hole right through me.

When I imagine how I'm going to die, I always imagine a gun, or a knife, maybe. This situation did not ever cross my mind.

They draw their head away further. "I am making you uncomfortable."

_ Guh. _

Fuck, what do I say, ugh, like,  _ yes, _ but, "it's not like that, I j-just wasn't expecting it, is all," I say, and I hate every word, oh god this is  _ so _ awkward.

"Lying to me is a waste of time and energy," they say, as monotone as ever, and I feel my blood run cold.

The thing is... it really feels like they  _ mean _ that.

(Which is a lot to take in, for a  _ lot _ of reasons, but we don't really have time to unpack  _ all _ of that right now.)

"I want to keep talking to you, though," I find myself saying, and I'm as surprised as anyone when I realize just how  _ honest _ that is.

"Is that so?" They ask, the  _ slightest _ hint of curiosity in their tone, and that emotion,  _ any _ emotion, is apparently enough to set me off, because my cheeks are burning again.  _ Augh! _ "Interesting," they comment, and it makes me a little mad, and also a little attracted, and just generally kind of frustrated.

"Interesting?" I repeat, trying not to let any of that show, and doing, uh. Okay. I think. Though maybe not  _ that _ okay if they're actually a living lie detector.

"If that is the case, would you consent to something of an experiment?" They ask.

Who says that? Who just  _ asks _ that? Hello??

"What kind of experiment?" I find myself asking.

Uh.

_ Hello, _ Shuichi???

I see their lips turn upwards a little in the dark, and  _ goddammit _ why does any emotion on their face look nice, this is  _ unfair. _ I'm being attacked. "I would like to see if I can further provoke this reaction from you in future interactions."

My entire  _ face _ is on fire, ears and all.  _ Fuck. _

"Just like that, yes."

Unbelievable. Unbelievable! This is absolutely unbelievable. I'm suing reality. I am going to collect my evidence and I am  _ going _ to put a case down against the exact circumstances that led me here and the judge is going to take one look and say to me 'son, you more than deserve this' and then he'll give me a pat on the head and I don't know how the judge turned into my uncle but we're rolling with it I guess.

Okay! Okay. Calm. Be...  _ calm. _ It's for the mystery, Saihara. You just want to get to the bottom of this, Saihara. It's fine.

"Does that mean I get to find out more about you?" I ask.

They pause. "If you want that."

Uh. Why  _ wouldn't _ I? Isn't that half of the appeal, here?

Wait,  _ shit, _ we're not being attracted to them right now. The prosecution would like that to be stricken from the record, Your Honor.

"Well, we could start with a name," I say. "You already know mine, but I don't know yours."

Another pause, a little longer this time. This one's starting to make me a bit nervous. I don't think a name is asking for that much, here!

"You may call me Kamukura Izuru."

...Like, founder of Hope's Peak Kamukura Izuru? Like the guy who died a couple of decades ago Kamukura Izuru? That Kamukura Izuru?

"No relation to the former headmaster," they clarify. Okay! Crisis averted. I was afraid I had accidentally stumbled into a horror movie for a few seconds, there.

"Probably."

It takes me a second to notice the subtle, dry humor in Kamukura's tone, and by that point my heart rate's  _ already _ spiked. I offer them a weak glare, and they just give that tiny smile and a little "heh" again. After  _ that, _ my heart rate is up for a whole  _ other _ reason.

"I will see you again, Saihara Shuichi," they say, "until then, you may content yourself to inform Momota there is no ghost on the premises. Or at least, that I am not one."

Then they turn and start to leave, without so much as a goodbye. Um! Okay! Sure! Fine! Okay!

"Goodbye, Kamukura-san!" I say, though... honestly, calling them by that still feels strange, and I can't quite tell why. Maybe it's the matter of formality with them, when, despite their dress, and the way they speak, they feel anything  _ but _ formal. Maybe it's the fact that their name, or at least the name they gave, belongs to a dead man, the man who's responsible for the school I'm attending now.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm attracted to them.

As they fade into the distance, though, one thing is clear.

I have  _ no _ idea how I'm even going to  _ begin _ to explain this to Momota-kun.


End file.
